Continuous Writing - A Phone Call

You were about to take a shower when the phone rang. In an urgent voice, the caller asked you to meet him/her in the neighbourhood park immediately. You rushed to the park.

The ringing shattered the silence. I cursed as I doubled back from the shower room to answer the phone. Draping my towel over my shoulder, I picked up the receiver.

“Val! Come to the park now! Quick!” The line went dead before I could ask why.

“What has happened? Why does she sound so urgent?” I thought, sensing something amiss from her anxious voice.

It was not my mother to call home at this hour. It must be something important enough for her to do this. I shelved my plan to shower and headed straight to the park as instructed.

Along the way, my pace grew faster and my strides longer. I started to pant a little. The park was just 500 metres away. But it seemed so far.

"What has happened? Why does she sound so urgent?" my mind was swirling with questions. I clenched my clammy palms and escalated into a run. I could not help bearing the thought that something awful had happened. After what seemed like ages, the entrance of the park came into sight. I craned my neck to look for my mother. Through the darkness, I saw a silhouette hobbling slowly towards my direction. It was my mother. I could tell from her slightly hunched back.

"Val! Over here!" my mother called out, with her hands gesticulating wildly. I hurried over. My mother was limping badly. As I neared her enough to see her clearly, I gasped in shock. On her left knee was an open wound with blood trickling down. Her calf was badly grazed too. My mother looked at her leg and used her right hand to rub away some grains of sand. It must be painful, real painful, for she twitched and flinched. I felt the pain in my heart too.

"That's the culprit," my mother explained, pointing to a pothole.

"Mum, let me piggyback you!" I lowered myself and bent down immediately. She seemed hesitant at first but eventually gave in to my firm stare. She struggled up clumsily my back. I jerked her in place and laboured the way home.

"Mum, why don't you quit your job? It's time you enjoy your life after so many years of toiling. After all, we are not short of money," I said, regretting that I did not tell her that earlier.

"We'll see about that," she sighed.

That was the only conversation we had on our way home. Till now, my mother still cuts across the park to get to work before dawn. My guilt never stops pricking my conscience but I just cannot find the courage to bring up the topic again.